


A side of headcanon

by lenioia



Series: Too white empire [2]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Made up clone characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23151193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lenioia/pseuds/lenioia
Summary: A few stories from Hordak's time as top general in Prime's Horde, from the point of view of a couple of clones from the "too white ship logs" entrapdak story.No Entrapta here - se wasn't born yet!
Series: Too white empire [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664215
Kudos: 10





	1. KOM98234

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was different, just slightly, and that was disturbing. He just looked wrong.

KOM98234 was quite mature. He was hatched some 100 years before, in a small batch of clones optimized and trained for diplomatic work. When the Horde was smaller, and Horde Prime considered alliances a useful part of his empire. He was still a top diplomat but as of late, Prime used diplomacy sparsely, mostly to buy himself time or lay traps. His work has been sidelined. 

KOM98234 was back from a recently conquered system with a list of suggestion which could improve the yield from its resources and lower attrition with the locals, but Horde Prime hadn’t time to spare for him. One of Prime’s attendants had instructed him to send his reports to Prime’s new second in command, serial VHNT4358. He wasn’t eager to meet him. The rumors were he was a oddball, testy general, unstable enough he had been reconditioned twice already, even though it was barely twenty. No one in the top military brass could get why Prime had given him the job. Just to spite them all, probably. If that was the case, Prime was right. They were a bunch of idiots and deserved the humiliation to obey to “Little brother”. As things stood, anyway, it looked like Prime felt the same about diplomats.

Humiliating or not, KOM98234 was sure just sending the reports in was pointless. VHNT4358 wasn’t ever going to read them, but KOM98234 wanted his work to be useful. If he could see him in person, he could be able to discuss at least the most pressing points.  
But apparently, there was no way to book an appointment. KOM98234 network of acquaintances anyway informed him VHNT4358 was on a moon base close to his position, so he just went there. 

When he finally found him in one of the base cargo docks, he immediately regretted the idea.  
VHNT4358 was yelling an interrupted stream of insults to a pair of terrified officials.  
He was… unsettling. KOM98234 was used to differences. He had dealt with alien species his whole life. Differences were his very job. But everyone in the Horde looked and behaved the same and he still found it orderly and comforting. 

Not him. Physically, he was different, just slightly, and that was disturbing. He just looked wrong. 

The way the bones in his face were more apparent. His hair, dark, blue. His voice. Not the sound, which was of course the same, but the tone. Shouting, hissing, gesturing. The way he dressed. Officials were supposed to wear the elegant front slits liver and cover themselves with tights. It was a sign of distinction, the honor of having been worth of Prime’s promotion, being permitted to dress more similarly to him… VHNT4358 wasn’t even in white. He was wearing the dark gray uniform issued to pilots, heavy metal cuffs covering his lower arms, black boots but beside that, his legs were bare under a side slit tunic. 

KOM98234 was planning a U-turn when he got spotted.  
Red slits analyzed him with suspicion. Maybe VHNT4358 had noticed how he was staring at him, as his fangs were showing. Damned bared red fangs and hideous red eyes that gave him shivers. How could one of their kin look so feral? 

“Explain your presence” he ordered. 

He had bad encounters in his long life as a diplomat. Some life forms he had to deal with were primitive, instinctual. He had always managed, and so he’ll do this time. He decided to forget VHNT4358 was one of them, he could hardly accept that without disgust, and handle him like he was some alien leader. Alien leader’s kid. VHNT4358 had probably an attention span proportioned to his age, so he’ll be extremely concise and focus on the main point.

“Civilization engineer KOM98234” he politely bowed “reporting on the Seld78 system. I have a suggestion to quell the rebellion which hampers our mining efforts. Most locals are exhausted from the war and will resign to our dominance if we stop provoking them by stationing our troops around their lakes. They are sacred places. They fought entire wars between themselves in the past to conquer each lake as a status of power among their kingdoms. Seeing us trample the area fuels their hate and keeps them united against us”

VHNT4358 let him finish his uncalled-for reporting without slicing through his throat with his claws, which KOM98234 considered a moderate success. Still, VHNT4358 had been hatched from the military batches of clones and any option not based on force was probably far from his mindset and training. He could as well make of it that if lakes were a problem, leveling them dry was a proper solution.

“How’s your expertise in Sorean customs” VHNT4358 enquired abruptly, jumping to a completely unrelated topic. His time listening about Seld78 was over, if he had listened at all. He wasn’t dismissing him yet, at least.  
“Substantial”  
“I’m to visit our newest colony there. You will examine the project and give me your insights”  
KOM98234 took his tablet to arrange a day.  
“Now” VHNT4358 added, in a tone that won’t allow for excuses, if those red fangs were to stay away from his neck. 

KOM98234 had a comfortable service vessel, with a crew of six. Generals had bigger escorted vessels which could double as operation bases. Usually. VHNT4358 wasn’t usual. In the least. He led KOM98234 to the external end of the cargo dock. To KOM98234’s horror, the only thing parked there was a fighter ship. An actual arrow shaped crude fighter ship. Just wings, tanks, engines, and barely enough space for two seats, a pilot and a navigator. A pilot and a hostage. He would be locked in this thing for hours, alone at the mercy of an unstable clone. 

Before he knew, he was in the back seat, clutched to the safety belts like to a lifeline.  
“We’re making a couple gravity assists to get to speed. I presume you wouldn’t dare to throw up in my ship”  
The damned kid was smirking. He was bringing him as a toy, just to have fun tormenting him, he was sure of it. 

Anyway, KOM98234 curiosity soon distracted him. Fighter ships had very little automation, one had to actually pilot them. It looked like VHNT4358 knew what it was doing. He entered sets of codes in the computer and exchanged quick codified gestures with the crew of the base. KOM98234 was used to the smooth, barely perceivable liftoffs of the bigger vessels, with their simulated environments compensating acceleration forces. They also had very little to no view outside. Here the whole cockpit was transparent. As soon as they were out of the hangar, the universe was there. The blazing rays of a nearby bluish star, the massive sphere of the red planet in front of them, a gas giant they will soon orbit for their gravity assists, its many other moons.  
Then came the acceleration. Utterly abrupt and steadily raising acceleration gluing him to his seat, making his blood struggling to reach his brain, his eyes and his mind startled by how fast the red planet disk was growing, like they were to be swallowed. Then abrupt rotation, and another, and another, and then again as much acceleration as he could bear.  
He caught a reflex of VHNT4358’s white face in the cockpit glass while starlight briefly shone in front of them. Smiling, not smirking, just a plain smile, enjoying the ride.  
They hurled above the tick atmosphere in a long harsh acceleration, and then again, the surface of the planet rushing toward, then away from them and unconceivable speed.  
Then calming weightlessness and the darkness of the black sky, peppered with colored stars. He had almost forgotten how detailed the sky was, how infinitely deep. How tiny even their immense empire compared, but how beautiful that expanse was.  
He was, oddly, enjoying the trip, and he relaxed, taking in the view, while his general was orienting the ship high gain antennas to resume communication capabilities.

“One hour to Sorean. So, Kom, what else the military got wrong on Seld78?”

Surprisingly, VHNT4358 had not only listened, he was curious about his field of study. Curious about everything, really. KOM98234 couldn’t remember having to answer so many questions. They went through every single item of his list of suggestion.  
Soon orders were sent out with the most pressing changes in strategy and notices to keep KOM98234 in the loop. 

Reentry was another new experience for KOM98234. Deceleration would take a few orbits in the upper atmosphere of their destination. “Put the helmet on. Don’t mind the flames” his general had casually told him at the beginning of their first plunge. Not helping. 

The world outside switched from black to blue. To azure. To bright azure. To just bright, to so bright that even with the cockpit glass screen fully shut, light shine alone was so intense it almost burned on his skin. The ship shook thoroughly, guts of plasma blowing around them, nothing but flames engulfing everything outside for minutes. VHNT4358 was flying instrumental, unconcerned by the hell around them, busy gathering readings and logs. Just another day to him.

Then gentler light. Towering clouds appeared as the screen went up, rows of mountains below, the immense tectonic ridge Sorean-A was famous for.  
VHNT4358 seemed to be running tests on the ship.  
“Everything is fine?”  
“It’d better be, or my engineers will have a really bad day. Anyway, we’re still assessing the maximum temperatures this prototype can bear at full structural load. And… here!” he beamed, reading pieces of data from his logs, oblivious of his passenger “11 degrees over the previous record with almost no hotspots! This new deflector shape really does it! I’m sending them this telemetry right away”  
KOM98234 failed to filter his thoughts before opening his mouth.  
“YOU are flying a prototype? What the military have test pilots for!”  
“Production models are boring. And I’m not wasting Prime’s resources building suboptimal equipment to his troops, the earliest I get to taste a ship, the better. Lastly” his feral grin resurfaced “engineers know better than be lazy on a model I will personally test. Landing in a couple of minutes”  
The ship wings fully extended to their atmospheric flight geometry and the flaps deployed. 

\---

KOM98234 had been concerned he won’t find anything wrong at the building area. He needed to show he could make useful suggestions to keep what favor he had gained on the young general. A soon as he saw the 3d presentation by the local commanding officer, he knew he was worrying wrong. There were enough problems he’ll risk making enemies discussing them all. 

“This is all very functional and harmonious, for us” he started with caution “Sorean tastes are quite different”. The officer shrugged. “Sorean tastes are quite irrelevant” 

“As are your presentations” fired back VHNT4358 “I have not travelled hours to stare at a projection. We will survey the construction area. Your opinions won’t be needed. I will directly order the changes I will deem relevant”

And so much for not making enemies. The officer faded away and KOM98234 got to the point quickly.  
“Soreans despise open spaces. They evolved in the ridge crevices. They like covered, tight, dark. Primeval instincts, avoiding being spotted by predators or being desiccated by the sun, are irrational but are much of what makes a first impression. We are offering their king a dignified surrender he can sell as alliance to his people, in exchange for their rare-earths mines. This place will be counterproductive, make them feel disregarded, threatened”

As they explored the site, KOM98234 noticed a pattern. VHNT4358 would default to yelling at bureaucrats and brass, in general, to anyone cowering or trying to appease him. While with specialists, were them engineers or just skilled workers, he would discuss at length, almost freewheeling. He spent twenty minutes with a group of welders without any rank, making tests with them on a conduit in a drench. The chief digger came to join, as more clone workers gathered, the muddy dig turned into the main meeting place. A pair of architects popped in, starting right away with the details of some new structure. They probably knew him well enough already. KOM98234 was soon dragged in as the Sorean tastes expert but had to double as notepad as the list of fixes to the project started to grow. Oddly the mess gave quickly results. VHNT4358 was good enough at most technical issues to join the separated know-hows into an effective solution, with limited shouting.

The “meeting” was cut short by a call. A surprise enemy attack required VHNT4358 presence on the battlefield elsewhere.  
“Kom, you finish here and send me a report. Tell Officer Power Point to give you a ride back to your ship. Don’t ask for feedback on this to your Sorean contacts. The Horde doesn’t need help”

And he was gone. Later, KOM98234 got several notifications. He had gained a direct contact with Prime’s second in command - what kind of passcode was “hordak” anyway - and he was given veto power on decisions for Seld87, Sorean and a list of additional territories.  
In a few hours the moody kid had restored his department relevance in the Horde.  
Apparently, he liked diplomats at least as much as he liked welding. 

But somehow KOM98234 mood was somber. The Horde needed some change, their tactics were growing in aggressiveness as their power and conquests piled up. History wasn’t kind on empires that overstepped themselves. VHNT4358 could be good news, but he was too young and disruptive. Engineers may like his attentions, but they’re not the ones pulling the strings.  
More importantly, what kind of game was playing Horde Prime with him?  
His instinct told him Prime wasn’t changing his methods _that_ much. He was probably letting VHNT4358 shake up things to rid the Horde of some of the most useless pieces of apparatus. Best case. Worst case Prime was simply having fun. Both were short term objectives. 

He’ll better be careful and avoid being too strongly associated with VHNT4358, or when he’ll fall, he’ll go down with him. He felt nearly sorry. He kind of liked VHNT4358, but his life was, probably, going to be short.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He always had a think for welding masks.


	2. KOM98234 - Soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halfway trought Hordak's years as top general, KOM98234 gets in trouble.

KOM98234 initial plan to maintain distance between himself and VHNT4358 had failed apart in a matter of days. First of all because VHNT4358 could order him to help anytime he wanted - and he surely did. Secondly, KOM98234 wanted his department to be of service. VHNT4358 was the only one willing to listen so it was either him or be back into irrelevancy, which wasn’t a survivable outcome.

Their cooperation just worked.  
The diplomatic department KOM98234 led had contacts and spies on every known planet, offering VHNT4358 plenty of back channels to circumvent the other generals. When VHNT4358 was lost in his research projects or military operations – whether planning them or taking to the field as pilot - KOM98234 would care to properly maintain their relations. Or repair them, given VHNT4358 tact and social abilities.

It’s been just four years, but their coordinated efforts had already brought results for the Horde.  
Alliances, technological exchanges and a better knowledge of the civilizations they were up against led their troops to quicker, cleaner conquests. Less massacres, less destruction meant new territories could be back to productivity faster than ever. Technological advances in turn lead to less revolts. Most civilizations were embarrassingly quick to settle into submission, excuse repression, marginalize rebels on their own, if it led to more comfort. Prime’s image in the eyes of his subjects had benefitted. A bringer of order and progress.

The top brass wasn’t liking it, but they were somewhat cornered. VHNT4358 was still in charge of weapon developments, the position he held before his promotion to Prime’s side, so he could give or take their toys as he pleased _as long as Prime pleased._

And that was the point. Horde Prime was growing tired of the tangle of compromises needed to maintain alliances.  
His will was not meant to be negotiable. The devotion from his subjects was not meant to be paid for.  
The results needed to quell his impatience kept rising. 

But VHNT4358 was too naïve and too lost in his love for his brother to pin the shift to anything else than his own inability to meet Prime’s expectations. KOM98234 was worried by the growing coldness Prime reserved him. The way Prime pronounced “little brother” gave KOM98234 creeps. The tone you would use for a pet who keeps bringing you dead preys. Mixed with something deeper and scarier. This for the encounters he had witnessed, mostly good occasions. Of the others, he would sometime spot the bruises.

At this point KOM98234 would generally ponder about how much time VHNT4358 had left, and when he would need to abandon him and change ship in order to preserve his department chances to be useful to Prime. 

But a notification derailed his assessment. One of his contacts had just sent in the most complete compendium on Fagerean traditions available on the galaxy. He could geek out over that stuff for days, starting immediately. For the greater good of offering more knowledge to Prime’s Horde. Or at least, that’s what VHNT4358 would say each time he could get his hands on a new technology to test.

KOM98234 hastily put in a few commands on the console. He had just collected a precious rare element cargo, a tribute to Prime from the rulers of the system he was in. The transport was loaded and ready. He confirmed departure through the portal floating over the automated base he was docked to, then immersed himself in the index of the essay. The courtship rituals section alone was over 300 pages. 

A triple beep.  
He lifted his eyes from his tablet to look at the console.  
The warning “portal calibrating – use for disposal only” was active.  
His heart stopped.  
He was supposed to look at a portal status before thrusting stuff in it.  
He was supposed to give a damn about a cargo worth more than his entire department budget.  
He was supposed to avoid errors which will have him executed. 

Errors that could not be remedied.  
There was no way to predict to which region of space a calibrating portal was connected to. His cargo could be anywhere within 2 light years from the intended target, never to be seen again.

\---

KOM98234 didn’t even know what he was doing here.  
He should be reporting to Prime. He would know his mind. Read how he lost the precious tribute. Squeeze his life out of him. 

He shouldn’t be dragging VHNT4358 in this.  
The cargo had nothing to do with him. It was an errand for his own department. There was no point in telling him first, if not, maybe, to make a final report on the status of their shared projects, since he wasn’t going to be around anymore. 

VHNT4358 was busy on some lines of code. KOM98234 barely registered his eyes were more yellow than green. Whatever Prime was doing to him, it wasn’t lasting much.  
Feeling stared at, VHNT4358 briefly turned to acknowledge him.  
“What?”  
That even VHNT4358 could notice there was something very wrong with him, spoke volumes about how scared he looked. He was trembling. He almost collapsed on a chair and just blurted out the whole story.

VHNT4358 face quickly changed to anger and disappointment. He was probably going to lash out on him. Yelling and throwing stuff around was his default answer to anything gone wrong. For some reason, it would have been more comforting than his actual reaction.  
VHNT4358 clenched his teeth and stood still. Then he finally spoke, not even looking at him, in a definitive tone.  
“Leave your badge, tablet and saber. You are confined to waiting room 3 until further orders are issued”

KOM98234 left silently. He was no longer fit. There was no longer a reason for him to exists.  
It was always meant to end this way, though he had hoped to last more, before failing.  
At least, he’s been spared a confession in front of Horde Prime.  
An executioner drone will probably be sent to him. Quick and painless.

\---

Quick didn’t happen.  
Several hours later, KOM98234 had collapsed on the cold floor, his head aching. Slow and painful was more likely with every long passing minute. He had seen what radiation can do to a living body. Sending clones to die at contaminated sites was a common and excruciating sentence. A fitting one. Die digging the same materials he had so carelessly wasted. The irony wouldn’t certainly be lost to Prime.  
His mind went through his own imminent suffering time and time again, until everything was senseless.  
Horrible, yet, entirely irrelevant. 

\---

A double beep. The door unlocked and swooshed open.  
A delivery bot entered and extended KOM98234 his tablet, badge and weapon.  
Also, a bowl of warm soup.  
He couldn’t bring himself to move. The bot placed everything on the floor and left. The door swooshed closed. No lock engaged.  
The tablet had one blinking notification. He looked at his saber. He didn’t know what scared him more.  
He slowly opened the message.  
“Your ship configuration is completed, search devices for the test ready. Reach the destination quadrant and record a detailed log of the results for troubleshooting purposes. Maximum test runtime estimated 5 hours. Confidentiality level G4 confirmed for this operation. Search will be fully automated, do not bring crew. Pause in case of any interfering ship in the area. Do not send logs remotely. Only confirm success or failure via network”

He took time to focus, struggling. He couldn’t believe it real.  
But the warmth from the bowl of soup was there, like a tangible proof.

VHNT4358 had used him in the past as a trusted party when some classified tests had to be done. Now It was a perfect cover-up to give him time enough to operate whatever solution he had assembled to find and recover that cargo.  
Still, making up an unplanned experiment, gathering the equipment, correcting whatever log or trace existed of what had really happened, with the Horde systems conceived for continuous surveillance, was something extremely hard and risky to pull off.  
VHNT4358 had surely done everything himself, that’s why it took hours.  
Every report and log on his tabled had already been altered to fit the cover-up. Should the search go well, news that any of this had happened would never reach Prime. 

But he could not understand why. There were nine other clones from the KOM98 batch in his department. VHNT4358 could have picked any of them to replace him. Beside some short term need to catch up with stuff, they would perform identically to him. 

Instead, this. What was this? What if the search failed? What if Prime found out, while looking for something else in VHNT4358 mind? He was probing him often.  
KOM98234 could think of no rational answers. But then, VHNT4358 wasn’t always rational.  
He was the rational one. He should be refusing this unconceivable deceit. 

Instead, he took the soup.  
He desperately needed something to calm down enough to follow the plan. Because that was what he’ll do. Since he was a coward. A coward that will accept deception, if it could spare himself pain and death. 

A coward that was already telling himself he wasn’t betraying the Horde.  
He was obeying his superior’s orders.  
He had truthfully reported, asked no favor, awaited instructions.  
VHNT4358 was the sole responsible. He alone had decided. He was the traitor. He’s never been one of them, after all.

\---

VHNT4358 glanced at the notification. “Success”.  
KOM98234 was useful. Sparing him would bring benefits to Prime. It was his duty to bring him benefits. More than duty, he loved his Big Brother. No matter the risk, he'll do what he thinks is best for him.  
His attention went back to the prototype nano-insulator under test. Keep busy. Never discuss, never think at it again. Bury it away fast enough and Brother may not see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hordak won't admit it, but he thinks too soup makes feel better.   
> The bowl of soup is also the only sincere thing in this.


	3. IMP29Q01

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Banist43 was an outpost in enemy territory, if clouds can be counted as territories.

“H21-45:23:78-17:35:09-239.104:125PTM”

That was the only communication sent, in its entirety, once decrypted. IMP29Q01 listened every frequency, scanned through every possible interference. Nothing else. He reported to the base commander. 

Banist43 was an outpost in enemy territory, if clouds can be counted as territories. To the Bewen empire, they were. Bewen was a massive planet, with a rocky core, but nothing could live on the surface. Its atmosphere was as thick as some gas giant planets are, layers and layers of clouds of increasing density. So dense the inner layers were more like fluids. The brain of the Bewen empire laid down there while his (or their, hard to tell) minions roamed above, a mix of organic and robotic swarms who lived their whole existence flying in the clouds. Banist43 sensors had detected a giant floating base Bewen used to manufacture his minions, a mothership. Very close to their position though many layers below them.

Too deep for conventional attacks. 

No need to add words to the codes. His commander knew as much as him what the longer version would have been. “Weapon H - fusion beam – energy level 21 incoming at coordinates 45:23:78 17:35:09 time 239.104:125PTM”. 

Two hours to the moment Banist43 would be vaporized along with the whole quadrant they were in, deep enough to wipe the mothership and the enemy swarm assembling under it. IMP29Q01 thought his commander had other messages, plans or orders to evacuate. But there was nothing beside that 36 characters long dead sentence. 

IMP29Q01 had tried to guess the reasoning. Banist43 had a crew of 5500. Evacuation would have been a large-scale operation, the Bewen mothership could notice, guess what was coming, disperse its fleet, sink deep enough to avoid the beam. A larger Horde attack was underway and there weren’t enough ships to divert to Banist43 to withdraw safely anyway. Their death was needed for the Horde greater good. 

“Why they told us” asked the commander “Why risk the message be intercepted if there’s no possible benefit for us from knowing. Are you sure the message came from the Horde?” 

IMP29Q01 was and had data to prove it. 

“The closest base right now is Avel42. We’ll evacuate there. An escort may be coming. You and your crew, keep listening until you board your transport”

Banist43 was a fortress with little need for fighter ships, being a giant heavily armed and hardened vessel floating in the cloud layers. Its engines were mostly to keep it fixed in its position respective to the planet. Banist43 wouldn’t move fast enough to escape the beam impact area and their few fighter ships had departed two days ago to join the main attack elsewhere. 

22 minutes later, five transports left Banist43. Basic troops transports. No armor, no weapons, no escort. Banist43 was entirely manned by low rank young clones. 

As radar expert, he was sitting close to the pilots and could see outside. Behind him, white rows of clones, silently sitting on benches with minimal support, barely fitting in the tight space. A metallic thump echoed from the thin shell. Bewen clouds weren’t empty. Mindless corrosive creatures roamed them continuously. They would land on any enemy ship, stuck to the surface and gnaw at the metal. There were countermeasures, specific wavelengths would make them fall off. Nothing that their transport could do. Transports were meant to be escorted. Another thump. Their thin defenseless ships would last one hour at most, before pieces will begin to fall out and holes will pierce the shell. Then either structural collapse or engine failure, and the slow fall, deeper and deeper into the clouds, pressure finally crushing them all.

They were ten hours from Avel42. 

36 minutes and 56 thumps later, all IMP29Q01 could do was record the time the thumps happened, and guess were the first crack will be. Outside, he could see dark masses stuck to the other transports. Inside, another red indicator lit. The pilots ignored it, there was nothing to be done and they were busy. They kept deep in the clouds, the only cover they could have from even more lethal enemy units, but clouds were hard to navigate. Winds and rain gusts were strong and ever changing.

Thump.

Briefly, a thinner cloud. A black dot appeared and changed direction. Got closer. A dark thick cloud. Then again, some visibility. It was a Horde ship. They weren’t forgotten.

The pilots raised momentarily, seeking whatever escort had reached them. A few seconds, then a message while the Horde ship approached closer: “Keep down”. It was a small saboteur ship, the newest model, IMP29Q01 could recognize, single pilot version. On its wings two pairs of additional fuel tanks stood, leaving little space for weapons. The sab ship changed course. A “swoosh” sound echoed. One of the creatures had detached. The sab ship was circling the transports, bathing their surface in infrared light. 

It took time. No other ship appeared. The pilots briefly chattered about a notification. The sab ship had finished getting rid of the creatures on the transport surfaces, was back just in front and above them. The lone pilot had activated jamming, covering the signals from their engines and instrumentations. They could raise into thinner clouds without being detected. 

Time stood still. Cloud after cloud. Ten minutes above to save fuel and spare their damaged transports some gusts of winds, then down again while the lone ship repeated the cleaning process, circling each transport, checking every surface. The little ship couldn’t do jamming and infrared together. Then up again, for a while, until there were creatures to remove again. 

A sudden surge of light was behind them. The fusion beam had hit. IMP29Q01 wondered when the aftershock wave would follow. The light let IMP29Q01 notice a pair of fuel tanks were missing from their little escort. Once empty, the lone pilot had let them fall to improve aerodynamics. He wondered if the saboteur ship had even enough fuel to Avel42. They had good range at their optimal cruising speed, but the transports were far slower. A brief sudden fight erupted as they crossed a small flock of sentries. The sab ship made short work of them, fast enough to prevent their position being relied to Bewen.

Four hours in, the pilots on the transport took turn with the backup pilots to rest a little. IMP29Q01 stared at the sab ship. It probably took the lone pilot hours of flight just to reach them. He was guiding them among the clouds, checking for enemies, maneuvering close to them enough to keep them clean, all while avoiding strong winds and cruising at a fraction of the speed his ship was designed for. He won’t get any rest.

Another brief message from him. “Direction 34N,7, up, fast, increase distance, incoming impact wave”. Their pilots raised as fast as they could, outside the protective clouds, where the air was thinner, and the impact would be bearable to their crumbling transports. They were shaken abruptly, multiple times, their pilots struggling to stabilize. Stripes of light were at their left, the sab ship battling enemies. They were spot the moment they left the clouds. “Down, regroup to 12S,56”. They sink down, cruising deeper in the dark, alone. 

Some twenty minutes later, a swoosh. The lone ship was back around them, doing infrared. No enemy was left to pursue them. The sab ship had let go of the second pair of fuel tanks and the transports hadn’t much left either. 

Nothing happened in the last two hours, nothing beside the fuel diminishing too fast, the shaking from the battered transports increasing, red warnings flashing, the stock of air getting thinner, the alternating thumps and swoosh. Damage had piled up and the sab ship had to work continuously around them to save what little metal was keeping the transports together.

A line of sentries. Horde ones. Five minutes and Avel42 was in front of them. It didn’t look like they were waiting for them. Messy angry messages were exchanged, they had to land dangerously close to each other, the main bridge encumbered with fighters and cargos departing and coming back. The sab ship landed last. 

They disembarked to a cold, oblique rusty rain. No one was coming to give them instructions so IMP29Q01 wandered off, just to stop shaking. The sab ship was right behind their transport. The pilot was keeping himself busy checking some external damage, his head still covered by the helmet. 

A cold voice was coming out of the receiver on his shoulder, a voice any clone would recognize instantly, over any amount of any flavor of rain.  
Horde Prime. 

Horde Prime wasn’t pleased, at all. He was spitting venom to the silent pilot for having disregarded orders, risked spoiling the attack on the mothership with his message to Banist43, failed to show up at a military council three hours ago.

IMP29Q01 froze. The lone pilot had betrayed Prime’s orders. A horrible act. A horrible act was the only reason he was alive, him and each of the 5500 Banist43’s clones. IMP29Q01 didn’t know just how to process this. He fled and reached the others, clustered against one of the gates. A high-ranking officer was flatly repeating they weren’t authorized to enter. Not even to land, for what mattered. 

IMP29Q01 now knew, the point was, they had no authorization to still being in existence.

So, they just stood there, freezing rain soaking them, tainting red their white uniforms, while their commander tried to talk the officer into letting them in, explaining no way their crumbling transports could bring them to the next base, and had nowhere to go back to. To no avail. 

Until the lone pilot stormed his way to the gate. The officer had barely inhaled to address him, when the pilot removed his helmet. His face was unexpectedly different, with harder, more angular features. Two red eyes were burning in it, piercing the officer like they could combust him on the spot.  
There was only one pair of red eyes in the whole Horde. 

“I AM YOUR AUTHORIZATION” he shouted, red teeth bared, his little patience exhausted long hours ago. 

The gate officer rushed to kneel to VHNT4358, so fast he looked like he was melting at his feet. The gate opened and IMP29Q01 let the crowd push him inside. In the background, he could still hear Prime’s second in command shouting streams of orders to have the mess on the bridge sorted, inquiring about the main attack.  
Demanding Banist43’s crew be fed and housed until proper transportation to the next base could be arranged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Little brother" being a big brother.


End file.
